


A Companionable Stalemate

by ImpossibleJedi4



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: (who is my oc for a sw5e game), Good Parent Din Djarin, OC, POV Din Djarin, Protective Din Djarin, Set in between episodes 11 and 12, basically din carefully befriends a droid
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-29
Updated: 2020-11-29
Packaged: 2021-03-10 06:22:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,945
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27769732
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ImpossibleJedi4/pseuds/ImpossibleJedi4
Summary: Crossposted to FF.netThe Razor Crest didn't quite manage to make it back to the city on Nevarro, instead stalling out in the lava fields. Din and the child must spend a night stuck in the middle of nowhere.However, they're not the only ones hiding in the lava flats. After Din meets a peculiar droid, they must learn to coexist for a short period of time.(Contains one OC)
Comments: 5
Kudos: 21





	A Companionable Stalemate

**Author's Note:**

> I genuinely didn't expect to be writing this, to be honest! I just got the idea and it would not leave me alone. I had to write a story of Din meeting my SW5e character, which turned into this nearly 4k-word fic.
> 
> (SW5e is basically Dungeons and Dragons but Star Wars, it's very well made and very fun!)
> 
> You can see what Vho looks like [here!](https://pestiwit.tumblr.com/post/630296001238990848/its-finally-done-a-full-referencemanual-for-my)
> 
> There's a chance I might add to this as the season goes on, and as the SW5e campaign unfolds, but for now it's a complete one-shot!

Going back to Nevarro was never really in his plan, but Din knew that he needed repairs badly. He also knew that he at least had a few friendly faces there (if they were still alive) that would help him on the down-low. At this point he didn’t have the credits to spend getting swindled by another second rate mechanic. Really, _ropes_ , holding together a craft that was supposed to be shielded against the vacuum of space?

It ultimately ended up being the best choice he could’ve made, backtracking, because the Razor Crest had broken down in the middle of a stretch of deserted lava flats. Din knew that if he’d still been in space when the engines sputtered out that they would’ve been dead in the water, floating around and waiting for rescue if any of his comms got through. He’d had just enough power left to not crash land, but that was it. There were warnings blinking all over the console, and he had no way of fixing that all the way out here.

So really, the only thing to do was call his friends and wait.

Oh, and go out and shoot some of the lava meerkats skulking around the edge of a molten river 10 minutes west of the ship. The child needed to eat, after all, and they didn’t have enough food for a meal. Din didn’t really want any of the slightly charred meat he carried back to the kid, but he knew it wouldn’t go to waste. The child’s primary mood these days was Hungry.

However, when he arrived back at the current resting place of the Razor Crest, his stomach fell. While everything was unchanged with his ship, there was a plume of smoke coming from behind a nearby ridge. Someone had lit a campfire. Someone was nearby.

And that was exactly where the Mandalorian did _not_ want someone to be.

Not even daring to sigh, Din slipped his blaster pistol from its holder, setting the lava meerkats into the open hold of his ship before creeping soundlessly towards the ridge. He didn’t hear any chatter, any quiet conversations that would lead him to believe that there was more than one person on the other side of the rocky outcropping. That certainly was fine with him. Less people to deal with in case of a fight.

When Din peered over the rock, finally able to get a visual on what he was up against, he paused. Before him was a strange sight; there was indeed a little campfire, nothing cooking over it, and in the firelight sat a lone droid. It stared into the flames, blinking every so often, and it registered with Din that he’d never seen a droid blink before. The frame of the droid looked worn, like it had seen better days. A few yards away was a large, sleek slip, settled low on the ground, making it invisible from Din’s earlier perspective. It looked as old as the droid that presumably used it.

Only dedicating a passing thought as to why a droid would need a campfire, he cocked his blaster, moving again until he was able to stand. Pointing his weapon at the droid, he spoke evenly. “This spot is taken. I suggest you move on and find another.”

‘Taken’ sounded much better than ‘crash landed here with no choice.’

Just as soon as he’d taken aim at the droid, it had drawn its own blaster and trained it on the gap in his armor near his shoulder.

“Who are you and what are you doing here?”

_Of course it had to be some kind of combat droid,_ Din thought to himself. _I hoped I’d be lucky but apparently not._

“That’s not really your concern. I would think your biggest worry should be my blaster pointed at your head. So if I were you I’d get up and head back to that ship of yours and find somewhere else to land.” Din’s voice was firm.

“I could say the same about you.” The droid’s tone was even and its voice was moderately deep; it spoke like it was choosing each word very carefully. Din didn’t respond right away, simply holding his blaster steady. After a beat it spoke again. “We could just go about our own business, since it seems we both just want to be left alone.”

“Why do you have a fire going? Who are you meeting here?” He finally found a way to articulate what had worried him so much.

The droid’s large red optic narrowed, the white rings in it seeming to size up Din. “I’m not waiting for anyone right now, actually. I just thought a fire would be nice. It’s warm.”

“You don’t feel temperature like we do.”

“Rude.” The cautious look was dropped for a moment for a brief dip into indignation. “We’re two strangers at an impasse and all you do is assume things about me.”

_I know your kind,_ Din wanted to say. _I know what you are capable of. I have known exceptions, but exceptions to the rule are exceptions for a reason._

He voiced none of this.

“Listen,” it said again. “Does honesty buy you anything on Nevarro? I’m out here because it isn’t safe for me in the town at night. I’m just a pilot-for-hire who’s bad bad run-ins with pirates, so I prefer to stay on the periphery. Out here is safer than in there, where I can scan for life forms periodically.”

“Didn’t catch me on your scan.”

“No,” the droid conceded. “My mistake. Now, can we work this out without blasters?”

Though he wasn’t sure he liked the fact, IG-11 had changed Din’s perspective on droids just a bit. He was slightly more willing to give individual droids a chance instead of shooting first and asking questions later. And this one didn’t know about his kid.

He also had beskar to protect his vital organs; the Mandalorian was confident in his ability to take out this droid if it came to it.

So he lowered his blaster.

So did the droid, leaving it on the ground next to itself. This left Din standing awkwardly and the droid sitting, simply staring up at him. The blaster sitting on the ground was a glaring reminder that made Din think back to Zero and how the droid had boasted about his reflexes. Who knew if this one was capable of similar maneuvers?

Cursing himself internally for what he was about to ask next, he shoved his blaster back into the holster, leaving it unclipped.

“I… was about to cook some food. Do you mind if I use your fire?” He figured that sticking nearby a possible enemy was better than leaving them to their own devices, unsupervised. And he genuinely did need to cook the meat for the child.

“I… suppose so, yes.” It took the droid a moment to choose its words. “I can tell you simply want to keep an eye on me, but I don’t mind sharing my fire. As long as you don’t come back with a bigger gun.”

“Mandalorians keep their word.” Taking a few steps backwards, still reluctant to turn his back on the droid, he eventually turned to go get the lava meerkats and check to make sure the child was still asleep. He broke into a light jog once he was beyond the ridge, just so he could get this done faster.

Having to coexist with strangers was not his strongest suit.

And of course, once he entered the Razor Crest, he found the child bouncing in their hammock, ears wiggling, very much awake.

“Kriff,” he mumbled, scooping up the baby. “Guess you’re coming with me, huh. I’m going to get you some food.”

The kid’s ears perked up when they heard that, looking up at him. It didn’t take the Mandalorian long to walk back down the ramp, scoop up the lava meerkats, and head back to the campfire. The child was babbling in his arms, reaching for the lava meerkats and making grabbing motions.

“No, these need cooking. I don’t trust feeding raw meat to a baby.”

They had the audacity to look disappointed.

Once the duo rounded the last boulder on the way to the fire, they were able to see the droid setting up a roasting spit, or at least a makeshift one made from utensils presumably from the droid’s ship.

Now that it was standing, it was easy to see that the droid was extremely tall, with long double-jointed legs that looked more like walker or animal legs than those of a humanoid. Even with its worn appearance, the droid actually moved with a sort of grace and dexterity that Din didn’t see much in mechanical constructs.

Looking up from where it was digging around in its bag, the droid took a half-step backwards. It looked guarded. “... You have a child,” was its response as it sat back down, folding its long legs.

“They are in my care,” Din replied evenly, taking a seat as well.

“I tried to set up something for you to use for cooking; I hope it will suffice.”

“It’s fine.” Settling the child at his side, away from the droid, Din took out his vibrodagger, making sure the vibrate function was off before he set to work skinning the lava meerkats. If he was also doing the math in his head to find out how quickly he could throw the dagger and hit the droid in the optic, he showed no outwards signs of it.

From inside his helmet, he glanced at the droid. Its smaller, aperture like optic was trained on what he was doing with his hands, its head tilted slightly. It looked almost curious, and Din had to counter his surge of anxiety with the logical explanation that it probably hadn’t seen much food preparation before. The more complex droids were built to process information and learn from it, Din knew; that’s what this one had to be doing.

Still, he was understandably on edge.

Another set of far less stressful eyes were watching his every move. The child was so obviously trying to behave, having learned a little something from the krykna incident, but they were also hungry.

“I know, it’ll be a little bit,” Din said on reflex, looking down at the kid. “I’ll get this first one roasting soon.”

When he looked back up, he could _swear_ the droid was somehow smiling. Its lower optic shield was turned up in an expression that was surprisingly recognizable. Mentally sighing and wondering if this was the best course of action, the Mandalorian broke the silence.

“What’re you doing on Nevarro? Seems like a strange place to visit, if you’re not looking for one of the main populated centers.”

It straightened, leaning back against one of the rocks. “A client paid for a shipment to be delivered here. Supplies to a local bar. I finished my job then came out here, since…” It paused, thinking for a moment. “Many places aren’t safe for an independent droid these days. Especially not after dark. I’m here until tomorrow evening, when I’m meeting up with my family. I know you asked if I was waiting on anyone,” it continued, speaking fast as if it expected Din to immediately draw a blaster on it when it stated that fact. “But I said I’m not waiting on anyone right _now,_ and I am going to their location _._ You have nearly an entire solar cycle before I leave, and you have my word that no one is coming here.”

That wasn’t actually the detail that Din was fixated on at the moment. He’d address that, of course, but for now… “You have a family?” Unbelieving, suspicious.

“Is it really so hard for you to believe that there are organics who might not be suspicious of droids?” It was exasperated, tossing a hand up and shaking its head. “Yes. I have a family.”

“And they’re not coming to pick you up,” Din reiterated.

“Are… I have our ship!” the droid said, staring at him like he had all the mental faculties of a womp rat. “They’re in town!”

“Alright!” Din snapped, looking down at the skinned lava meerkat so he could skewer it. He was good at reading people, and even good enough at reading droids. This one spoke with none of the poorly concealed pride that Zero’s voice had carried, and its voice was human enough that it didn’t sound like it was lying.

If it was, there was nothing Din could do anyways except possibly ask the droid’s ‘family’ if they could repair his ship.

Setting the first chunk of meat over the fire to be roasted, he set about skinning the next one. “... Thank you. For setting this up.” He gestured at the makeshift spit.

“It’s not much, but it’s what I had,” it stated. “And it works, that’s the most important part.”

“Yes.”

He looked back down at the child, who was still clutching his knee and watching the meat without looking away. “I’m halfway done skinning this one. Then you can eat, and I won’t have to impose any longer.” The last part of the sentence was aimed at the droid, though Din didn’t look up from the kid. The long green ears pricked, and a look of excitement turned into something more like confusion.

“Sorry, I was speaking to…” he trailed off, finally looking back up at the droid. “I don’t… know your designation. Never exactly seen a droid that looks like you before.”

“I am Vho,” it said. “I have no official designation.”

Din should have figured that this particular droid would have a name instead of a designation. Everything else about it was so kriffing weird already.

“Vho,” he repeated. “Alright then.”

It was at that moment that something in the fire popped, unbalancing the spit and sending it falling into the coals. Din lunged forwards, fully aware that he could really do nothing but acting on instinct anyways. However, in that same instant, the food stopped falling, hovering in the flames. The Mandalorian’s gaze snapped to the child, but they simply blinked back up at him, wide-eyed.

Din’s head turn was slow as he turned to look at the scene before him. Vho’s metal hand was outstretched, and the spit was settling itself back onto the stakes seemingly without any interference. The second it was fixed, Vho jerked its hand back towards itself as if burned, though it had been nowhere near the flames. Its optic looked almost scared, and it seemed to withdraw a little bit.

He had not found the Jedi yet. He barely understood this Force his kid was apparently able to control. But even with his meager knowledge, he knew what had just occurred was Wrong and Against Nature.

“How are you able to do that.” His voice was even, not even questioning, tense and discomforted. 

“I… cannot answer those questions. I was created different, and I must leave it at that. For my own safety.” 

Din’s hand crept towards his blaster, the sense of Wrong pervading him even more strongly. He was about to flick open the holster when a movement drew his eye. The child had released his knee and was toddling slowly towards Vho, one three-clawed hand outstretched.

To its merit, the droid looked panicked, like it didn’t know what to do but _did_ know that Din would shoot a hole through its optic if it so much as touched his kid. “Er, go back to your caretaker,” it said quietly as the child patted its knee.

“Come here, leave it alone,” Din agreed, voice hard and stern. 

“Him. Or them.”

“What?”

“I… Don’t appreciate being called ‘it’ much,” Vho said, voice faded almost to nothing but static and autotuning as _he_ mumbled. He nudged the kid with one hand, not roughly, back towards Din.

“ _Fine,_ ” the Mandalorian said forcefully, only relaxing when the kid was back in his lap. Multiple emotions were warring inside him, the main two being the suspicion and deep trauma he had associated with droids, and the other the want to be at least a half decent person and not needlessly cruel. Like it or not, he was _not_ on a job, and Vho was not a target. The droid had made no move against Din after they’d called a truce.

Trying to soothe his emotions, Din reasoned with himself, remembering how he had worked with IG-11 without knowing him at all, even if that had backfired. The droid had redeemed himself though, and once reminded of that fact his mind quieted a little.

“The kid… can do that too. Use the Force.” Reaching out, he snagged the cooked meat, pulling little pieces off to hand to them.

“I… can tell,” Vho replied, voice guarded. “I can sense it.”

Din couldn’t exactly tell what he meant by that, but he had a feeling that he wasn’t really supposed to. His kid and this droid possessed a sort of sixth sense, one he’d never be able to tap into.

He wasn’t sure if a larger part of him was fine with that, or a larger part of him felt inexplicably left out.

“I know you’re not supposed to be able to do that,” Din said after a beat, passing some more meat to the child. Vho’s vocoder made an aborted sound, but he didn’t say whatever it was he was thinking. “I don’t know how the Force works, what makes it work, or what connection you have to the world around you. But I do know that it’s not something accessible to droids. You’re… different, somehow.”

It was so obvious, now, why this particular droid thought he had to hide in the middle of the lava flats in the middle of the night to stay safe. There were probably multiple factions hunting him down. For the first time, he felt sympathy for Vho.

“I’m not a cyborg, if that’s what you’re wondering. But… For my own safety I cannot tell you why I’m like this. I hope you understand.”

“I do. I won’t ask,” Din assured him.

“... Your baby has the lava meerkat,” Vho said suddenly, pointing, and yes it was true. The child had taken the whole cooked meerkat kebab and was eating it like a drumstick. After a moment, Din decided to just let them have it. They must’ve been fed up with how distracted Din was from feeding them.

“They can have it,” he sighed. “I’ll cook this last one so we have some rations to store, the we’ll head out.”

“Alright. Thank you, by the way, for… not prying, about my abilities.” Though awkward, the words were very genuine. Vho’s body language became less tense as the droid reached out to poke at the fire with a metal rod. 

The Mandalorian couldn’t help but wonder who in the _galaxy_ had made this droid that moved like an organic being, used the Force, and seemed to have genuine thoughts and emotions. He half wanted to shake the person’s hand, and half wanted to shake them by the shoulders and ask _what they were thinking._

But he’d decided, for better or for worse, that he liked Vho enough.

So this time, when the child had eaten their fill and wandered back over to Vho, leaning on his mechanical knee, Din didn’t react. Vho glanced at the baby, up at Din, and back down to the baby, before stiffly picking up the little green bundle.

“Hello,” he said softly, holding the kid up to his optics, head tilted slightly. They babbled, ears twitching, and tilted their head in the same direction. Vho’s lower optic shield slanted up again in that same smiling gesture. Entranced, the baby reached out and planted a little three-fingered hand square on the glowing red sensor, causing Vho to make an unintelligible electronic noise and jerk the kid away from his ‘face.’

“Not for touching,” he said, blinking several times while the child simply giggled. 

“I’m sorry, did they… hurt you?” Din asked, stumbling over the word.

“Not exactly, but it was weird,” Vho admitted, offering the baby his finger to hold instead. 

“... Can most droids feel things?” Though he realized it was rude to ask, Din couldn’t help it as his mind flashed back to IG-11 taking blaster fire and then self destructing.

“It depends on the droid,” Vho replied. “Some have very intricate sensors, though most, including myself, have them concentrated in certain areas, like the hands. Some have no real sense of touch or pain at all.”

Din wasn’t quite brave enough to ask if Vho knew enough about assassin droids, and wasn’t sure he really wanted to know the answer after all.

So he settled for the other question he was wondering.

“Do you know of the Jedi? And can you let us know where we can find one? I’ve been tasked with taking this child to them.”

Vho blinked again, settling the child in the crook of his arm. “I know of them, yes. I was active back when they existed… but they’re mostly gone now. I wouldn’t know where to look to find a Jedi these days. Not every Force user is one, nor lightsaber wielder. I know… They and Mandalorians didn’t tend to get along, but I wish you luck anyways.”

Din had been half-hoping Vho would say that he himself was a Jedi, though he wasn’t sure how skilled the droid would be at caring for a baby. _Ah well. I still have a lead, I can go based off that still._

“Thank you,” he said aloud. “I know we’ll be needing luck.” He leaned forwards, getting into a crouch to take the last piece of meat off the fire. “And we should be going, our food is done.”

“Alright. I’m going to find a more secure location to hide, if either of us have a change of plans and people come looking for either of us, I don’t want trouble to arise.” Vho stood at the same time Din did, towering over the Mandalorian and handing him his child back.

“That’s… not a bad idea,” Din agreed, tucking the kid into his bag gently. “Sorry to chase you out of your hiding place.”

“It’s alright. Enjoy your meal.” The droid knocked the spit over, letting the metal cool a bit before scooping it all up. “It was nice meeting you, actually, after we stopped pointing blasters at one another.”

“It was. Maybe I’ll see you in the future sometime. I’m guessing I’m not the only one who frequents spaceports.”

“You’re definitely not,” Vho agreed with a chuckle full of reverb. “And yes, it would be nice to bump into a friendly face on occasion.”

With a nod, Din gathered up all of the food, wrapping it securely in a spare shirt he’d had on the ship. “Alright, goodbye. See you around.”

“Yes, goodbye,” said the droid, tilting his head, red optic focused on them. “And may the Force be with you both.” Bending to grab his bag, the droid slung it over his shoulder and Din caught a wink of metal in the light of the dying fire; a lightsaber, clipped under the flap of the bag. Before he could speak Vho strode off, disappearing into the night.

He only stared after the strange being for a moment before turning slowly and making the trek back to his own ship.

If he was going to find a mentor for the child, he needed to get off the ground as soon as possible.


End file.
